I don’t know anything about God

but I’ve seen the lake.

It sips color from the sun

and slowly drinks it down.


Spit it a bitter wad of gum,

throw it empty bottles

and listen to the sound of its lips

suck against the shore.


It takes my words

and swallows them whole.

I show it the puzzle of my life

and a fin rolls over smooth.


I cast it old questions and the answers

dissolve into ciphers dissolving.

Its surface widens and I have a vision

of geese as a single feather spinning.

When at last it speaks

its voice thickens with insects

and I hear but only find

trash at the edges of its mouth.


Some shamen say we will one day

join the spirit of the lake.

I don’t know anything about spirits

but I’ve touched the lake.

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